Medical update

i have had several procedures/test in the last month to clarify some weird things happening.  my pulmonologist called yesterday with the results of those tests. 

apparently, i have another auto-immune thing going on.  it is microscopic polyangiities (MPA), which is a type of vasculitis.  although it can affect other organs, my lungs are affected the most.  several new  lung nodules have been growing in recent months, but he doesn't think it's cancer.  other weird symptoms now make sense with this diagnosis. 

i return in six weeks for more tests and in three months for another ct scan. 

the prognosis:  not sure.  the emotional impact:  not sure. 

for now i am 'up in my head' about most of this.  more later....

Garfunkel and simon

in 1972, i enrolled in a college experimental/experiential english course...  experimental because it was outside the classroom.  experiential because it was multi-sensual.  a bus loaded with first-year students was on it's way to a scout camp for the rest of the day and evening. 

at that time in my life, i was emotionally vulnerable.  a new college, new peers, new atmosphere, new, new, new.  in this situation, the comfort of structure gave way to spontaneity, adventure, fear/excitement (twins), and anxiety. 

we entered the mini-lodge to find a lighted fireplace, offering a warm glow and a pleasant smoky smell.  the walls were rustic as were the floors, the kitchen, and the bathrooms. after walking around, loosening up from the bus trip and exploring our new environment, we were invited to sit on the floor in a circle. 

our two professors did the usual greetings... briefly thank goodness, and then offered the theme for the day.  without words, they told us what adventures we would experience, what feelings we may encounter, and what were the spaces/closets/yin-yangs of the time together.  all of that was said within the music of simon and garfunkel's 'the sounds of silence'. 

what a mystery, an anticipation, and a fear the song offered.  i had no idea what to do with it except to listen...  heart, mind, body.  when the song was finished, we were invited to find an alone place to write our experience. what the hell did that mean?  questions were asked but the same answer was given...  'write your experience'.

sitting on a flat rock beside pine-sol smelling trees, i was alone with me, my paper, and my pencil (because i wanted the security of an eraser).  i felt deeply but the paper remained empty.  i reviewed some of the lines of the song but the paper still was empty.  i captured the famous voices of the time, but yes, the paper was empty.  to coin a phrase from another song, 'the words got in the way'.

the last couple of days have been filled with the silence of mind-pictures.  images of being lost, confused, scared have starting to appear in my sketches...  brilliant/pastel, harmonious/cacophonous, abstract/realistic.  and all is done within a cocoon of silence.

out in the fresh pre-dawn air, i write these words.  actually, they are words about pre-words, captured only in images.

so i wait for the results of medical tests and relevant diagnoses, wondering about and wandering in emotional silence.  it's a lonely place, my own space, but with the confidence of love surrounding me in an unseen circle of people. 

Waking up

having a restful sleep is a wonderful if not luxurious thing. but being asleep on the inside while wide awake is a nightmarish existence.  there has been several times in which my brain was asleep...  my inner eyes were closed...  for significant periods of life. 

how does that happen?  and why?  for me, it has been the inability to cope with something.  rather than seek out help, i have drifted off only to find that life has passed by.  periods of depression since i was a teenager have contributed to the problem.  hopelessness has turned to desperation...  and a couple of times attempts to end my life. 

i have learned that in spite of physical disability and in spite of my body forcing me into retirement, i can still open my eyes to the world.  enjoying life from my perspective has become a daily as expressed, for instance, by taking pride on our home and our yard, sketching and creating, playing the piano, and spending time with donna.  it's doing the best with want i have to give AND to receive. 

jackson browne sings a tune that best describes it best for me. 

"Alive in the Word"

I want to live in the world, not inside my head
I want to live in the world, I want to stand and be counted
With the hopeful and the willing
With the open and the strong
With the voices in the darkness
Fashioning daylight out of song
And the millions of lovers
Alive in the world

I want to live in the world, not behind some wall
I want to live in the world, where I will hear if another voice should call
To the prisoner inside me
To the captive of my doubt
Who among his fantasies harbors the dream of breaking out
And taking his chances
Alive in the world

To open my eyes and wake up alive in the world
To open my eyes and fully arrive in the world

With its beauty and its cruelty
With its heartbreak and its joy
With it constantly giving birth to life and to forces that destroy
And the infinite power of change
Alive in the world

To open my eyes and wake up alive in the world
To open my eyes and fully arrive in the world
To open my eyes and wake up alive in the world
To open my eyes and fully arrive in the world

Layers

movie within a movie, story within a story, play within a play...  with little thought many of us could name a work of art or piece of literature that contains such rich, multiple layers.  my mind goes immediately to the movie 'tootsie' in which we view the behind-the-scenes shenanigans of producing a tv soap opera.  talk about multi-layers!!

transformations are like that.  within major life transitions exist smaller transformations.  the major ones rely on the relatively minor ones to sustain the change.  layers upon layers of change that require adaptation and flexibility.

this has been a banner year for 'transformations within transformations'. 

• both donna and i are retired now, moving from a structured workday schedule, to a more relaxed, spontaneous lifestyle. 
• we decided to stay in our home for our retirement years
• health issues have become even more a life focus.

in order for these major transitions to be sustained, smaller transitions are in progress. 

• we are adapting to having more time together.  we try to create not only physical space but also space in our interests, pursuits, and hobbies.  and we also create times of shared space.  playing 'who wants to be a millionaire' every morning on the internet is a quick and fun example.
•  numerous changes have been made to our home to make it more accessible and functional.  a large outdoor patio was built so that i can have more freedom to enjoy our outdoor space.  it's been well worth the time and energy, not to mention the drain on our retirement savings. 
• shifts in health require making daily decisions about and minor corrections to diet, exercise, and emotional attitudes. theater tickets have to be rescheduled, social events postponed, and plans put on the back burner.  it's an annoying but necessary adaptation to the realities of life.

many more examples exist rivaling the layers of several russian nesting dolls.  the point is this:  transformations within transformations within even more transformations are essential to life itself.  and in this home, we are doing our best to meet those transitions with our best intentions and with our determined actions.